Page 30 of Found By Him

“Okay.” I don’t miss the hint of disappointment in her tone. The feeling is undoubtedly mutual.

As I head out of the kitchen toward the door, something out of the corner of my eye has me stopping. Taking a step to the counter, I pick up a container and pop the lid off. I glance over my shoulder at Gisella, standing a little behind me. “Did you make me chocolate chip muffins?”

She gives me a sheepish shrug as a blush fills her cheeks. “You said they were your favorite. And technically, we did agree to a payment plan of baked goods.”

I hook my arm around her shoulders and pull her into me. Her arms automatically wrap around my waist.

The contentment I feel with her against me would have been inconceivable a few months ago if someone had told me this was a possibility. I blame Nate for putting his idiotic romantic ideas in my head.

I know I need to release her and not take it a step further. I’m toeing a line I’m not sure how to navigate, as I have never been here before. Gisella is technically our client. Admittedly, since whatever this is between us started before that, and she isn’t paying me, the lines get blurrier and blurrier the more I stare at them.

My hold loosens, but don’t let go completely. I want to relish these last few moments with her before I’m once again dragged away. Her body presses against me when she takes a deep inhale. Smoothing my hand down the back of her head, I say softly, “Hey.” When her eyes find mine, I tellher, “I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I will try to free up some of my time.”

She shakes her head. “I know you all are busy, and you have a lot of jobs and other clients. I’m sure it’s difficult to figure out how to split your time between everything. Plus, I’m technically not paying you, so I really should be the last priority.”

I don’t have time to convince her how wrong she is. I can’t remember a time I have ever had a client’s body pressed to mine the way hers is nor would I have enjoyed it as much with anyone else. I settle for one last gentle kiss on her forehead and admit, “You are so far from the last priority for me, I can promise you that.”

I begrudgingly release her and tuck the container of muffins underneath my arm. She pads behind me to the door.

“Put the security bar in place when I leave.” Giving her one last look, I step into the hallway and close the door behind me. I stand there until I hear the lock click and another noise that I take as her sliding the security bar under the doorknob.

It’s going to be a long night as I count down the minutes until I can see Gisella again.

17

Ella

Jack wasn’t able to pick me up on Tuesday or today, as he thought. He said because of one of his employee’s wife having a baby, he got pulled into a high-profile personal security job that he had to take care of himself.

I’m unsure what to make of our last few encounters. He has yet to kiss me again since the night he showed up at the restaurant. But he did tell me I was not his last priority. While it wasn’t exactly a declaration of deep feelings, it still meant a lot to me. Even if I’m not exactly sure what that means to him. He’s been kind and caring to me, but there’s still a part of me that’s afraid he’s only doing that so it isn’t awkward between us while he’s helping me out. That would explain why it’s stopped there. The most I’ve gotten are a few kisses on my forehead and some lingering hugs.

But if I stop being selfish, I can admit that’s probably forthe best. Guilt for the problems I’m causing him with having to find people to be with me when I leave my apartment makes my stomach hurt. The last thing he needs is to have to deal with me and my issues in a personal relationship.

I shove those thoughts out of my head as I gather everything I need for work. Jack texted me about thirty minutes ago that Ian would be driving me again today. I met Ian yesterday when he picked me up. He and I bonded over our love of hockey when I saw his travel coffee mug featuring the local hockey team. We had an in-depth and lively conversation about the upcoming season during the ride to work and again back home.

The thought of work has my chest getting tight from anxiety. Not only do I have a ton of work to do, but I need to figure out the game plan for the fraud I’m even more convinced is happening after the last few days with Craig. He’s making me uncomfortable. I would love to just go to Mark with my suspicions, but I’m concerned with my lack of proof that it’s, in fact, Craig, or what exactly he’s doing, that Mark won’t believe me. He and Craig have worked together for fifteen years, so why would he believe me over Craig?

My phone vibrates to alert me that Ian’s here. I grab my bag and purse and walk downstairs, thoughts racing with what I need to do today.

Ian greets me warmly. If I hadn’t met him the way I did, I would probably have been intimidated. He’s bulky from a massive amount of muscle and always has a severe expression on his face. I considered it a personal accomplishment yesterday, the one time I got him to break it with even a hint of a smile.

Staring out the window as he pulls away from the curb, I shift so I can look at him. “Ian, can I ask your advice on something?”

He frowns as he throws me a side-eye. “I guess.”

“I already know what I should do. But have you ever struggled to do the right thing because you don’t know how you’ll be impacted? Even if you did nothing wrong?” I pick at my nail before continuing. “And you don’t have to tell me that self-interest isn’t the best reason not to do what I should do.”

Every day I walk into work, my conscience screams at me that I should have brought my suspicions to Mark a lot earlier. But things don’t always end well for whistleblowers.

And to be completely honest, I’m scared.

I don’t have a family to fall back on if I lose my job. I don’t have a lot of, or really any, friends to rely on.

I have no one but myself.

Ian is quiet for a long moment. I wonder if he’ll answer me until he finally says, “You have every right to be worried about you. If you didn’t have some sense of self-preservation, I would be worried. At the end of the day, you just have to decide. If you don’t do whatever you think is therightthing, are you going to be able to live with yourself?” He clears his throat roughly. “But I will warn you, even when you do the right thing, or at least what you think is the right thing in the moment, your life can still go to shit.”

I slump back in my seat. His demeanor is of someone who’s speaking from personal experience. And what he said makes perfect sense and is exactly what I’ve been worried about.

---